


This Kiss

by orphan_account



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:26:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4357913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A first kiss is something special, something memorable, something sacred; the Verona kids reflect back on theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Hey- you all remember your first kisses, don’t you?”

Romeo’s words caused his two companions- Benvolio, who had been sprawled out in a beanbag chair with a library book, and Mercutio tapping away on his phone next to him- to glance up. The prince’s nephew’s eyes narrowed mischievously; Romeo’s cousin’s face, however, seemed to tint a delicate scarlet.

“And you’re asking,” implored Mercutio, “because…”

Romeo shrugged thoughtfully, running a hand through his golden hair. “I was just thinking, is all.”

“Thinking about kissing?” A grin lighting up his face, Mercutio sprung up from the floor and threw himself at his best friend. “Oh Romy, I thought you’d _never_ ask!” he exclaimed, and Romeo let loose a shriek as they both toppled backwards onto the floor. 

“What’s the matter, Romeo?” laughed Mercutio as the boy under him batted rather halfheartedly at his chest, trying to force him off. “You don’t want to kiss me?”

“I’ll pass,” Romeo chuckled, at last managing to push the golden haired boy away with a palm to the face. Mercutio regained his footing deftly and stumbled back as if he’d been violently shoved, spinning right into Benvolio and wrapping his arms around his neck. 

“How about you, Benny?”

“Get off, Cutio.” Benvolio rolled his eyes, gently untangling himself from the blond’s grip. Sighing, Mercutio relinquished his captive and flopped back in the chair next to him.

“I remember my first kiss,” he remarked. “And I remember Romeo’s, because I was there. But come to think of it... “ Eyes drifting over to Benvolio, he raised an eyebrow. The brunet shifted uncomfortably under Mercutio’s slightly evil gaze. “I’ve never heard your story, Ben.”

“There’s… not much to tell,” the Montague nephew replied nervously. Mercutio tutted, tossing an arm around his friend’s shoulders.

“Benvolio, keeping secrets? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“I’m not being secretive, I just-” Benvolio seemed as if he were quickly growing exasperated. “Mercutio, come on.”

“Hey,” Romeo intervened briskly, holding up his hands to intervene between the two before an argument could break out which he really didn’t want to be caught in the middle of. “We’ve all got our stories. Why don’t we tell them?”

Benvolio tilted his head. “Our first kisses?”

“Sure.” A bright grin split Romeo’s face. “After all, what’s better to talk about than kissing?”

“Umm, let’s see… it starts with an ‘S’ and ends with an orgas-” Mercutio was cut off by a brisk swat from Romeo, before the Montague boy turned to look at his cousin.

“What do you say, Ben?”

Mercutio was game for whatever Romeo wanted to do; and Romeo himself was obviously playing along with his little idea. What other option did Benvolio have but to say- “Umm, alright.”

“Great.” Romeo grinned, leaning forward on his elbows. “So _I’ll_ go first…”


	2. Romeo

It was to absolutely no one’s surprise that Romeo was the first of them to get his first kiss. It happened in kindergarten, under the jungle gym at recess in the middle of a crowded playground; barely out of diapers, Romeo locked lips with his first ever love. 

The girl’s name was Susanna, a pretty, dark haired thing with large blue eyes and lips like roses. She liked Romeo and Romeo was head over heels for her; together they had decided that they were now officially married, and the only thing to do was seal that deal as the adults did- with a kiss. As four year olds with very little idea of how actual kissing worked, they decided to do the one thing they knew; put their lips together, and surely that would mean they’d love each other for life.

She had been nervous about people seeing them, but of course Romeo had promised that no one would notice them under the equipment where they had taken their refuge in the midst of the chaotic playground. 

And he had almost been right; he hadn’t taken into account, however, his best friend. Without fail Romeo and Mercutio played together every recess- when the prince’s nephew, with his messy mop of golden blond hair and his perpetually skinned knees, caught sight of Romeo sneaking off with Susanna, a mixture of anger and curiosity propelled him to follow after them. As they crawled beneath the darkened refuge of the covered jungle gym, Mercutio ascended it and peered between the bars; from his secret perch, he had a good view of his friend, as well as what ensued next.

Looking back years later, Romeo would still be able to remember that kiss; the way Susanna’s lips were slightly moist, how she smelled of vanilla in a way that reminded him of the baby doll she always carried around with her. Most memorable, however, were the butterflies whose wings seemed to beat in his chest the moment they kissed; and it dawned on him in that moment that he was really, truly in love with the girl in front of him. His first kiss was one he’d never be able to forget.

Mercutio’s eyes widened at the spectacle in front of him; he sat, transfixed, for a few long moments, even after Romeo and Susanna, giggling, had climbed out again and ran off to build castles in the sandbox for themselves. His own juvenile mind had no idea what to make of what he’d just seen; he couldn’t understand the churning sense of betrayal in his gut, or the underlying emotion that maybe there was something more to the kiss that he was missing and wanted desperately to understand.

Of course, Mercutio being Mercutio, the next day everyone in class knew Romeo Montague and Susanna Dianatti had kissed on the playground. Shamed, Susanna approached her “husband” the next day; her tear-streaked face and quivering voice were forever branded into Romeo’s mind.

“I don’t think we can be married anymore, Romeo.”

For the rest of that week, Romeo was left a disconsolate mess; after begging his uncle and bribing his older cousin Paris, Mercutio managed to collect up enough pocket money to buy his friend a new toy car as an apology. Slowly, he managed to win back his friend’s trust.

But deep inside, even he found himself unable to get his mind off of that kiss- the bliss on Romeo’s face, the way they had both looked so genuinely happy, the almost electric feeling he had gotten in his chest when seeing the two children lock lips. Somewhere deep inside, though he was too stubborn to admit it even to himself, Mercutio couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever get to have his kiss too.


	3. Benvolio

Benvolio was thirteen, and sometimes he’d like to play chess in the park with whomever cared to challenge him. He was skilled, better than most kids his age and beyond, so it wasn’t often he’d lose. Among the small circle of chess players, he had begun to make a name for himself; often people would come just to play against him, and normally they would lose. 

For him, there was just one real challenger- _her._

Rosaline was her name, and she was as clever as her hair was red; she’d always study the board with such calculation, such a measured coolness on her almost stern face, that even when watching her intently Benvolio found himself never able to predict her next move. She was intelligent and she knew it; she took pride in her own mind, wearing it like a banner on her chest. Benvolio honestly liked Rosaline; though she could be cold at times, Benvolio quickly learned that there was nothing Rosaline enjoyed more than a challenge. It was his job to be the worthy opponent for the green eyed girl’s ambitions.

“Checkmate,” he declared one crisp spring day, sucessfully capturing Rosaline’s king with one of his own knights. Rosaline blinked at the board, her own mistake becoming apparent to her; she let out a sigh running one hand through her long auburn ponytail and frowning down at the table.

“Rosaline.” Benvolio was distracted from the pleasure of his victory by the obviously detached look on his somewhat-friend’s face. “Is everything alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, of course.” Rosaline turned her green gaze up to him, blinking in what seemed to be surprise. “Good game.”

Though far from convinced, Benvolio wasn’t willing to push her; with a hum, he began setting up the pieces again for another match. He was taken by surprise, however, when Rosaline suddenly brought up something that had absolutely nothing to do with the game he’d just managed to win. “Benvolio,” she said, sounding thoughtful enough to grab the boy’s attention immediately, “have you ever kissed a girl before?”

Benvolio felt his cheeks heat up. “W- what? No, I…” He was baffled. “Why are you asking, Rosa?”

“I want to kiss a boy,” Rosaline replied automatically, sounding as impassionately thoughtful as before; not for the first time, Benvolio wished he could better understand her just to get inside of her mind and figure out what she really meant. “Not because I have any desire for a boy. I want to know what it’s like. If you haven’t kissed anyone either, we could be each other’s first kiss.” Turning to him, she raised a thin eyebrow and he felt himself swallow thickly. “Is that okay with you?”

“I- I-” What could he say? He had no reason to turn her down; he’d never really given much thought to it before, but there were certainly worse people to give his first kiss to than this distant Capulet cousin. “Sure.”

Rosaline’s lips turned up slightly in a small smile; Benvolio was frozen as she leaned in, one of her hands drifting to the back of his neck, before she seized hold of him and gently pressed her lips to his.

There was no electricity. No fireworks, no sudden burst of light. It was nothing like Romeo had described. It was just a kiss; Rosaline’s lips were warm and slightly chapped, and faintly Benvolio registered that she smelled like the flower she was named for. When they parted after a few seconds, both of their faces were red; neither seemed quite sure what to make of what had just transpired.

“So,” Benvolio coughed after a moment. “What do you think?”

“I think…” Rosaline pursed her lips, staring up at the sky pensively. “Kissing isn’t for me.”

“Oh.” And that was that. Benvolio continued setting up another game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Benvolio's turn! This is my first time writing Rosa- I hope I did her justice, because I really do adore her.


	4. Mercutio

To everyone’s surprise, of the three friends Mercutio’s kiss came the latest of all of them. It might have been slow in coming, but his first kiss was as impulsive and electric as the boy himself. It happened when he was fourteen.

It wasn’t unlike Benvolio to want to go off on his own at times, but that day he’d been gone for long- too long. Even Lady Montague had noticed her nephew’s absence, and when _Lady Montague_ noticed something about the children things were truly serious. Mercutio and Romeo had undertaken the task to look for the boy; and by sunset, just before he was about to give up and decide his friend had run away to Egypt and left them all behind, Mercutio was lucky enough to discover him on the outskirts of town, at a little wooden bridge bordering the forest.

Benvolio sat on the edge of the bridge, staring off at some indefinable point in the dark expanse of trees in front of him. He was seemingly oblivious to his legs dangling perilously fifteen feet over the rushing water below; the night air was chilled, and Mercutio could see his breath materialize in front of him as he called out. “Ben!”

The start he gave the brunet almost had Mercutio worried that he would go tumbling right off the side of the bridge; he hastened over to him, ignoring the frown on Benvolio’s face as he easily pulled himself down next to him to match his perilous pose. “I’ll admit, Benvolio,” he remarked, pausing for a second to catch his breath, “if I had known you would be here, I would have brought a fishing rod.”

“That might have been helpful,” the other boy replied emotionlessly, gesturing to one of his feet- bare. “My shoe fell off.”

“Of course it did.” Sighing, Mercutio leaned back on his hands and cut right into the meat of the problem. “What are you doing here, Ben?”

“I’ve been here all day.”

“That's nice. Stop avoiding the question. Why are you here?” _And how didn’t I think to look for you here before?_ Mercutio knew that if _he_ wanted to be alone- which Benvolio obviously did- he would want to go at least to the city limits. That would be the first place he’d think of to offer him some real privacy; aside from royal carriages, very few of Verona’s citizens ever saw cause to venture away from their hectic little city, so the woods that surrounded Verona couldn’t be quieter.

Benvolio was silent for a long moment, staring into the churning waters below him as if contemplating something intently. Mercutio tilted his head, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in the back of his mind.

“Ben?”

“I’ve-” Benvolio swallowed thickly. “I’ve told you how my parents died, haven’t I?”

“Of course,” Mercutio shrugged, his frown deepening. “Bad car crash. I’ve known that for a long time. Was it today?”

“Yeah,” Benvolio replied softly. “The anniversary. Seven years.”

Mercutio sat in silence, wincing slightly; all of a sudden, everything had become clear.

“When they- when they died… they were on a bridge. The truck that hit them, it...it hit them so hard that they went straight through the guardrail and over the side. My dad died from the impact, and I’m pretty sure my little sister did too because they were both on the side that was hit, but my mom probably would have still been alive… hurt, but alive when… when they… she would have seen that water rushing up to her, she would have felt it in the car, and whether she drowned or died from her injuries I don’t even know, but…”

Benvolio’s voice broke off in a small noise and Mercutio felt a spike of alarm when it dawned on him that he was crying. Benvolio was crying; Mercutio had always been convinced that nothing in the word was as bad as seeing Benvolio cry. When Benvolio broke down, he did it silently, with only maybe the slightest whimper to advertise that he was really hurting; hot, silent tears streamed down his face, and his breathing became labored. It felt like seeing an angel weeping.

“Oh god,” Mercutio groaned, horrified. “Please, Benvolio, don’t…”

“I- I’m sorry!” Benvolio buried his face in his arms, his shoulders trembling.

“For what? Hey, Ben, look at me- Benvolio, please. Look at me. I want to see your face, just-” Mercutio was inwardly frantic; he didn’t know what he could do, or if he could even do anything at all to help his hurting friend. He would do anything to ease Benvolio’s struggle; without any options, he decided he needed to do the first thing that instinct drove him to.

He didn’t pause to think of the repercussions, or even the fact that he’d never kissed anyone in his life; he just tilted Benvolio’s face up and pressed his own lips to his.

Benvolio was frozen, shocked; Mercutio wasn’t surprised to find that his lips tasted like tears. His face was too warm, to the point where Mercutio wondered if he might be feverish; but, more importantly, he had stopped crying. This was all Mercutio could have asked for.

He pulled back, licking his own lips and stubbornly ignoring the little voice in the back of his head screaming _what had he just done to his best friend_. He raised his eyes to meet Benvolio’s, and was unsurprised to find the other boy staring at him in shock.

“Did you just... “ Benvolio broke off incredulously. “I…”

“Sorry,” Mercutio offered up immediately, but Benvolio shook his head.

Another moment of silence ensued; it wasn’t awkward, but Mercutio could feel it in the air almost tangibly. He himself was shocked at his own actions; as many times as he had imagined giving his first kiss, he’d not once pictured that it would be with Benvolio. Yet at the same time, now he found that he could not imagine it with anyone else. Perhaps more disconcertingly, however, was the realisation that even after how long he’d thought about his first kiss, how he’d imagined it would feel, that sort of electricity he’d witnessed with Romeo- that hadn’t been there.

What had he felt? His heart had doubled it’s pounding; he felt slightly dizzy, breathless from shock; he felt as if his head wasn’t quite on straight. But electric? Blown away? In love? Hardly. And it frustrated him more than he could say, because for the first time it dawned on him that maybe he might never have something like that with anyone. At the very least, not in the way he longed for.

Benvolio, if he was feeling the same thing, didn’t seem apt to show it; after a long moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for ages, the other boy slowly pulled himself to his feet and offered Mercutio a hand. “Let’s go home.”

Mercutio studied Benvolio’s palm for a heavy few seconds before grasping it in his and rising himself; together, the two boys walked back to town side-by-side.


	5. Intercessor

At the same time three boys in the attic of the Montague mansion were discussing their first kiss, a second conversation was commencing all the way on the other side of town, in the house of none other than the Montagues' most hated enemy.

“Tybalt.” Juliet’s voice was thoughtful; inquiring from the other side of the room. “Can I ask you a question?”

The Capulet boy frowned slightly, glancing away from the sword he had been polishing. “Of course.”

“You won’t like it.”

This was a red flag, if there ever were red flags with Juliet; if she felt the need to warn him, it must be something that was really on her mind. He turned fully, discarding his sword to the side, and raised his eyebrows at the girl. “What is it, Juliet?”

Juliet, her back turned, inhaled a deep breath; Tybalt could see her shoulders rise and fall. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

“Of course.”Tybalt’s reply was short and blunt; abruptly, he went back to polishing his sword, ignoring his cousin even as he felt her come up behind him, even as she said _“oh,”_ in a small, sort of disappointed voice, He knew she wanted to hear stories; but he had none to tell. None that she could hear, anyway. Juliet wanted romance, passion, kisses out of a fairytale; most of Tybalt’s kisses had come from girls he could never care for at all, women paid by his aunt to take away his loneliness for just an hour or two. His first kiss had been another matter- but an entirely repulsive one, and definitely not one he cared to recount.

“I haven’t kissed anyone.” Calmly, sensing that her cousin couldn’t be pressed, Juliet settled down at his side with a book. “I want to, though. Maybe one day…”

“One day you will,” replied Tybalt quietly. “You’ll have your great romance.”

“Tybalt.” There was that tone to her voice again. In his gentleness, she had sensed an opportunity; Tybalt knew what she was about to say before she even asked. “What was your first kiss like?”

Tybalt closed his eyes. His first kiss; what a truly unpleasant memory. He let his mind wander.


	6. Tybalt

“-an immature, brainless, incorrigible failure who will never amount to anything in the entire expanse of his pathetic lifesp-”

Tybalt’s rambling- for he _had_ been rambling, he realized later, rambling just as much as Mercutio but the other boy had just made him so damn _mad_ \- was cut off abruptly by the sudden feeling of someone pressing their lips to his. Whatever Tybalt had been expecting, that wasn't it; he staggered backwards, his sword slipping from his hand, but whoever it was had him caught up in their arms so he couldn’t fall. His back hit the wall behind him, and still someone else’s mouth was on his, kissing him fervently. They sucked on his lips, their hands running through his tangled mop of hair, and to Tybalt's chagrin his eyes began to drift shut of their own accord; he was enjoying this, somehow.

When Mercutio finally pulled away, his face was flushed; he looked slightly stunned, as if something had just happened that he couldn’t understand or believe. Where he seemed lost in his head, Tybalt, meanwhile, had one thing only on his mind.

Mercutio had just stolen his first kiss, and now he was going to die.

“Why the hell did you do that?” Ignoring the knee-jerk instinct to _stab_ , Tybalt seized Mercutio by the shoulders and slammed him up against the wall. He towered over the blond, who was still looking up at him with something akin to incredulity. “Can’t we even have a decent fight without you releasing your sexual tension all over it?”

Mercutio blinked up at him, with a very… disturbingly peaceful expression on his face. “Who would have thought it would be you?”

Tybalt blinked. “What.”

“You!” continued Mercutio, easily brushing the baffled boy away and resorting to lounging casually against the wall. “Tybalt, sweet, sweet Tybalt, my dearest friend, I don’t know how or why but you’ve just given me something I’ve been searching for for years! That electric jolt, that sweet release, that-”

“Go find a sock.”

“Of course this doesn’t mean that we’re in love,” Mercutio continued on, and Tybalt’s eyes widened in terror. “Oh, no no no. That would make things a bit awkward.” He tilted his head towards the dark-clad Capulet, his eyes shining with delight. “Kiss me again, Tybalt?”

Tybalt, at this point, had never been more frightened in his life. “N-no!”

“Mmm, fair enough. Once more and my lips might rot off from your sheer aura. At any rate-” Mercutio clapped him once on the shoulder. “Thanks for the show. Goodnight, sweet prince, most rotten Capulet. May the next time we square off lead to blood and gore and nothing more.”

And within seconds Mercutio was gone, off down the street and rounding the corner without a second glance, leaving a very baffled Tybalt in his wake.


	7. Juliet

“My first kiss was nothing special.”

Juliet pouted, the corners of her mouth turning down just enough to show her displeasure; Tybalt forced himself to look away, knowing that his cousin was disappointed in him. Juliet was definitely not an easy person to let down. “I wish you would tell me the story.”

“And I wish _you_ would leave my room and go find your nurse. You have to get ready. There’s a ball tonight, you know.”

“A ball,” echoed Juliet softly, rolling her eyes. “I don’t think I like balls. Nothing ever happens there.”

Tybalt shrugged his shoulders, rising to his feet and glancing towards the bed at his own silver mask, which he had selected just for the occasion. What would Juliet be wearing tonight, he wondered- and would she look as beautiful as she always did? That was a foolish question. Of course she would.

“You’ll get to like balls,” he remarked simply, turning away from her as unpleasant thoughts swirled in his mind. “Now go. Who knows? Maybe something interesting will happen tonight.”

Juliet hummed. “Maybe,” she sighed, and a few seconds later the door closed behind her.

Would Mercutio be there, Tybalt wondered to himself? Quickly he shook the thought off, striding over to his dresser and pulling out a silver dagger, which he easily secured to his belt. Of course he would be there; he knew for a fact his aunt had been sure to invite him, the way she always invited the Prince and all his relatives to Capulet affairs. Be he there or not, Tybalt reminded himself, it didn't matter. He couldn’t care less.

xXx

Juliet got her first kiss that night; from a handsome boy in a white and blue silk shirt, who didn’t even hesitate before approaching her, and though his face was covered she abruptly thought that he had all the stars in the world hidden behind his blue, blue eyes. They danced; he made her laugh; and in what seemed like an instant, he had kissed her.

She was astonished; surprised, shocked, giddy, and maybe even a little frightened. But of all the people she could have kissed, this boy- this wonderful boy with his clever tongue, dreaming eyes, and remarkable mind- couldn’t have been the better choice. She wanted to know his name; she wanted to see his face; she wanted to know everything about him.

But she settled for simply pulling him close and kissing him again. 

After all, once she learned more about him, she was sure they would have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I have too much time on my hands; the RaJ characters reminisce on their first kisses.


End file.
